Wreckers Must Breathe by Hammond Innes Page B

Gestapo agent. ‘You are under arrest, Herr Strasser. Disarm him!’
    When both men were disarmed, he turned to his orderly. ‘Fetch Commander Brisek here! You’ll find him in the mess.’
    The orderly disappeared. The commodore rubbed his knuckles gently. There was the beginning of a smile on his ruddy face. ‘I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much,’ I heard him whisper to the doctor. Aloud he said to the doctor, ‘You’ll look after the prisoner?’ He indicated Logan. ‘Have them both transferred to quarters on the other side of this gallery.’ He stroked his chin gently, and there was a twinkle in his eye. ‘I think we might put Fulke and his friends in the wet cells that he insisted on having constructed. I wonder how they’ll take to the U-boat service—do you think they’ll be frightened?’
    â€˜I have an idea they will,’ replied the doctor with no attempt to conceal his smile. ‘What I know of psychology prompts me to the view that Fulke at any rate will be very frightened.’
    The commodore nodded. ‘I will give Varndt instructions to stand no nonsense.’
    The door swung open and a naval officer entered, followed by the orderly.
    â€˜Ah, Heinrich, I have a little commission for you which I think you will enjoy. I have placed these men’—he indicated the two Gestapo agents—‘under protective arrest. Take a guard and arrest the other two.’
    â€˜Very good, Herr Commodore.’ Commander Brisek marched out with three men of the guard.
    The commodore turned and went out of the room, followed by his orderly. The doctor went over to Logan and took him by the arm. As he led him towards the door, he nodded to me. I followed him. He took us to a small but comfortable little cell on the other side of the gallery, almost directly opposite the door of the guard-room. He sent a man for his bag and in a very short while he was easing the pain of the cuts on Logan’s back. Almost immediately afterwards our evening meal was brought to us. It was six o’clock.
    When the doctor had finished and had left us, I said to Logan, ‘Well, thank God for that! I didn’t think it would end as comfortably as this. How are you feeling?’
    â€˜My back is bloody painful,’ he said.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘But you’re lucky to get away with nothing worse.’ I felt this was ungracious, so I said, ‘Many thanks for doing what you did. I owe it to you that my ribs are still intact. But it was a dangerous thing to do.’
    â€˜Ar,’ he said, ‘but it was a real pleasure.’
    I looked at him closely. His eyes were shut and he was grinning happily. There was something very Irish and a little unbalanced about him. I said, ‘Well, for God’s sake leave me to get out of my own scrapes. If you knock any more officers out you’ll be for it.’
    â€˜Is that why they were going to whip me?’
    â€˜Of course. What did you think?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I thought it might be their idea of fun.’ He turned over so that he was facing the wall. ‘Good-night,’ he said.
    I stared at him. He just did not seem to grasp things. The old alertness was gone. He seemed dull and slow-witted. I put the light out and climbed into my bed. ‘Good-night,’ I said.
    The warmth of the cell and the darkness were wonderfully comforting after the wet cells in the dock gallery. But even so I found it difficult to get to sleep. My brain was too full of thoughts to be still. The fantastic events of the last few hours ran through and through my mind. I had keyed myself up to see Logan whipped to death before my eyes for something that he had done for me. Miraculously he had been saved from that and now he did not seem to realize what had happened. It was pitiful. But gradually the relief of the changed